Three Brunettes
by Ruthless Bunny
Summary: A glimpse into the women in Gregory House's life. Chapter 3 Bridget the Midget
1. Natalie

Three Brunettes

Natalie

He poked at his cereal watching the Quisp bob up and down in the milk. Mom smoked a cigarette and continued to yenta to his aunt about the latest in the General Hospital storyline. _So then Audrey told Dr. Hardy…you know they have a thing for each other. She has the patience of a saint._ He rolled his eyes and took another sugary spoonful.

He got up and put his bowl in the sink. His Mom rinsed it out and put it in the dishwasher, all without missing a beat on the phone. As he went out the front door, she reached into the trendy avocado colored fridge for another Tab.

His Dad was in the living room messing with the Hi-Fi. _Chicago_ played, all horns and percussion as dozens of silver knobs raised levels. Woofer. Tweeter. Balance. Tone. Bass. Treble. Each one filtered through the cardboard cones of the enormous speakers. As he passed through, his Dad looked up at him questioningly. Greg paused, "Sounds a little tinny to me. Needs more bass," he offered. His Dad nodded and goosed the knob, Greg nodded, "better."

"Greg! Get home by three; you've got piano!" She screamed through the screen as he headed over to the park with his glove.

He walked up to the curve in the cul-de-sac and over to the park. That was a mistake, their having this house. It was the model. Upgraded with green sculptured carpet, foil wallpaper in the powder-room, the pass-through from the kitchen to the patio, the fireplace, all of it was for some other family. But the salesman screwed something up, and instead of the starter home in phase III, his family had moved into the fully tricked-out model when they closed out the subdivision.

The path meandered through the park. To the left was the 'little-kids' playground, full of merry-go-rounds, swings and those horses on springs. It was the first summer Saturday after school had let out, so everyone was here. He veered right, through the picnic area, to the baseball diamond. He saw the other kids warming up and he quickened his pace. He was hoping to pitch.

The sun shone, but it wasn't hot. Kevin's face was already red with sunburn. Greg tugged on his cap and squinted. He threw a few back and forth with Brian. Some girls had stationed themselves at the perimeter wearing colorful cotton dresses and sandals. Karen with her blond hair and pink, paisley dress stood out, a classical beauty amongst the others who were trying too hard with white frosted lipstick they had shoplifted from the Rexal.

After the choose up, Greg took his place on the mound and they started. His starting pitches were slow, but as he got warmed up he was able to get them across the plate with reasonable heat. Not that the kids from the neighborhood could appreciate it. Bobby from across the street swung at all three of them well after they had passed him.

They played until the skies grew dark and threatened rain. By then it was time to go home and see what their moms had made for lunch. He waved to the guys as they dispersed and saw out of the corner of his eye that Karen was following behind him with her best friend Natalie. Natalie and Karen were inseparable; it was as though they were one person with the name of Natalieandkaren. Karen was beautiful, the one the guys all talked about on the schoolyard, but…there was something about Natalie.

Karen had perfect long, Breck-girl hair, blue eyes and a soft voice that you had to strain to hear. Natalie was her polar opposite, a loud brunette who was a know-it-all in school. Last summer Natalie went into the irrigation canal with the boys to catch penny-frogs while Karen sat on the banks and waited. Natalie lost her balance and got her butt wet and the boys teased her for the rest of the day. Karen was much too ladylike for stuff like that.

Greg had the feeling that they wanted something, but kept on walking towards his house. He was just at the part where the fence separated the park from the Martin's house.

"Hey Greg!" Natalie shouted and he could hear her salt-water sandals pounding the sidewalk behind him.

He stopped and turned around. Natalie ran towards him as Karen hung back, fiddling with the hem on her dress. "What?" He stuck his glove under his arm and waited.

She got up to him and grabbed his elbow. "I have something to ask you."

They waited a minute. Girls rarely spoke to boys, unless it was to tease them, or to ask for help. "So ask."

She swallowed and looked back at Karen, who smiled encouragingly at her. "Okay, but not here."

"Where?" They were in a park, there weren't all that many private places, besides, he wanted to get home in time for American Bandstand.

Natalie walked towards the fence, which was shaded on the park-side by a tall oleander bush. When they were younger they played back there, pretending it was a cave or a house or even as Natalie contended, a magical portal that could transport them to Disneyland. She was always coming up with stuff like that.

Natalie brushed the flat, shiny leaves of the oleander out of her way and leaned against the fence. "Someone likes you." She smiled shyly.

He didn't know what to say to that. He liked her, but it wasn't like he was going to start hanging out with girls. His buddy Bruce was always talking about kissing girls, but Greg didn't see the point. Although sometimes Natalie wasn't like the other girls. "Oh?"

"Yes." She smiled at him. Karen might look like those girls in his Mom's magazines, but Natalie was genuinely beautiful when she smiled. It was something in her eyes.

"So?" He waited for her to get the point.

She looked down at the dirt. The bush made a pink flowered crown at the top of her head. "Well, what do you think?"

Greg looked at her; if he was going to like a girl it would have been Natalie. "About what?"

"About Karen." She smiled, "She thinks that you're groovy."

"Oh." It wasn't Natalie. It was Karen. If the other guys knew that Karen liked him they'd envy him, although honestly, none of them knew why exactly. "She's okay."

"So do you want to be her boyfriend?" Natalie looked up at him and he saw something in her face, something that was a cross between hope and anguish.

He waited for a moment and leaned in. His face was just inches from hers and then he kissed her. "No." He said as he made his way back to the street. He turned around and she had the oddest expression on her face. He smiled at her and walked home.


	2. She Who Must Be Obeyed

She Who Must Be Obeyed.

"No." He fixed her with his best '_I feel nothing_' stare and watched her squirm. House loved to keep her off guard. Then he walked away. Glutton for punishment.

"Wait!" She called after him. He stopped and turned. "I don't like that answer."

He thought for a moment, "No…m'am?"

"It shows that you're well brought up, but try again." She smiled sweetly, crossing her hands over her chest and tapping her foot, the universal attitude of impatience.

"Can we talk about this when we get home?" He asked her in a low voice, trying to avoid becoming more of a subject of the rumor mill than usual.

"It's a simple question. Will you marry me?" Her eyes sparkled when she asked, "I think you should reconsider your answer. You owe me…big."

"I owe you?"

"Look at what I've endured; look what I've given up. I like being married and I want to be married to you. Forget about answering. I've got tickets on the midnight flight to Las Vegas. Your suitcase is packed. The airport shuttle arrives at 9:30 tonight. Be there." She smiled again and walked off towards her office.

"Will Elvis be presiding?" He called after her; it seemed pointless to argue.

"Of course. We get a free pull on the slot machine after too." She said as she turned the corner without looking back at him.

"Well then, it's a bargain." He pulled out his Game-Boy, but was too distracted to play with it. He sought out Wilson.

Wilson finished his dictation as House burst into his office. One look at House's face and he knew. "So is this it then? You're finally going to do it?"

"She's shanghaied me James. It's in Vegas. Elvis is doing it." House sat down and put his leg up on the desk.

"It could be worse." James, the veteran of three weddings would know.

"I guess so. You don't suppose that it's been in the works for months. I mean, our friends and families…" His eyes widened in horror.

Wilson coughed and glanced down, "I'll be there. I'm propping you up."

"Oh." House replied. "This is really it. After all this time it's happening. I'm getting married."

"It's painless. I think you'll like it. You don't have any reservations about her, do you?" Wilson began closing down his computer.

"Not any more. At first I questioned everything about her motives, but now, I know." He stopped; it was embarrassing talking about loving and being loved.

"So no cold feet, no jitters, no nerves?" Wilson motioned for him to get up so that they could leave.

As they walked towards the parking garage House considered it all. "No. She's the one. Who else would put up with me?"

Wilson laughed, "as you well know, quite a lot of people have lined up for that job."

"I mean _really_ put up with me, for the sake of having me around. Not for the challenge." House stopped at his car.

"There are at least two of us Greg." Wilson cuffed House on the shoulder and throwing caution to the wind embraced him in a bear hug.

"Yeah. Thanks." There was an embarrassed silence between the two of them. 

"Get going. I'll see you at the house in a couple of hours." Wilson turned to walk to his space.

"Bring scotch; it's the only bachelor party I'll get!" House called after him.

"Coals to Newcastle! I've got it all planned out." Wilson waved and got into his car.

House started the Corvette and let the engine warm up. He pulled out his cell phone and placed a call to directory assistance. "Princeton. New Jersey. Hank Irons Jewelers."


	3. Bridget the Midget

Bridget the Midget

He's lost the ball in the sun, and he's running in the general direction of it, praying that he'll be under it when it gets into view again. It's about to drop into the pocket when he's distracted by something on his face. It feels like a butterfly. He's trying to see the ball when he hears it, "Daddy! Daddy!"

House rolls over and shakes off the dream. It's one of his favorites and he's loathe to lose it. His eyes meet those of Bridget. 'Bridget the Midget' as he was fond of calling her. "Daddy, Mommy says you have to get up now."

"What time is it?" he asked. He had gotten in late the night before having stayed in the hospital until it was certain that his current case was out of danger.

A quizzical look crossed his daughter's eyes. "Time to get up. Weren't you listening?"

"I don't want to get up. Why should I?" He rolled over and pulled the duvet over his head.

"Mommy said to tell you that there's waffles." Bridget played with the watch that he had thrown on the bedside table in haste the previous night.

"Tell Mommy to save them for me, I'll eat them later. Go bring me the paper," he asked, "I'll read the funnies to you," sweetening the offer,

"Mommy said that you had to come to the table. Mommy said that we can read the funnies later. Mommy said that when we were done eating that we could watch Nemo. Mommy said that I'm in charge of you." It all tumbled out and she smiled at herself, proud of having remembered it all.

House sighed and looked at the ceiling, then back to Bridget who was squatting to look under the bed, presumably for the cat. "Leave him alone, he's asleep too."

Bridget huffed in frustration, "But Mommy said…"

"I know what Mommy said. If you start one more sentence with _Mommy said_, I'm going to scream."

Her eyes rolled up, as though looking at her secret script, she tried, once more, "Mommy said…"

"AAAAGGGHHHH!" House screamed, not loudly or harshly, more like when he was reading Charlie Brown's reaction when Lucy pulled the football away from him.

Bridget laughed, "Mommy said get your ass out of bed and come eat." She laughed when she said 'ass'.

House resigned himself, "I guess that's it then. If she's teaching our infant daughter to swear, then she must be serious."

Bridget waited for him to actually get out of bed, since she had been fooled in the past.

"Don't you trust me?" He fixed his eyes on her trusting face.

"No." She shook her head violently. Her hair was still tangled from sleeping and her yellow Big Bird pajamas had the remnants of a glass of juice from the night before dropped down the front. As a rule Bridget could go from zero to filthy in sixty seconds. But even so, she was beautiful, like her mother.

"Smart girl." He hoisted himself out of bed and shuffled towards the door. "See? I'm moving."

The table had been set with the yellow cloth. Yellow was Bridget's current, favorite color. The lemon shaped salt and pepper shakers complimented the juice glasses that were printed with little oranges. It was a bit too festive for a Sunday morning after a late Saturday.

Bridget climbed into her chair and began to eat the waffle that had been carefully dissected for her. She carefully lifted the glass of milk to drink out of it having eschewed the Tommy Tippy cup on the strength of her father's conviction that she was a big girl and could handle a glass.

His wife set down a pecan waffle in front of him. "I see that we woke up in good mood this morning."

He glowered at her. "Sarcasm isn't your strong suit."

She shrugged and sat down to her own plate. "I want to go to Ikea later."

He waited for the other shoe to drop. "So which of two horrors am I to endure? Either you want me to go with you to help pick out something I don't care about or you want me to play with Bridget when you know there's a game on."

"Poor you. If it's any consolation, I'm going with Gwen, so James and Dennis are coming over."

"Yea!" Bridget chimed in. If her feelings were hurt by her father's feigned reluctance to spend time with her, she didn't show it.

"Bridget the Midget, Dennis the Menace and James the Pain? I thought this was my day of rest." He sipped his coffee. "Let me guess, we're barbecuing for dinner too? Does this suburban nightmare never end?"

"Mommy! Can we make cookies later?" Bridget was climbing down from the table and making her way into the family room to fire up the DVD player.

"If Daddy and James want to, then yes." She picked up the plates and went to load them into the dishwasher.

Bridget skipped into the other room and soon 'Finding Nemo' was blasting from the surround-sound. Neither of the parents heard it, they had long since learned to tune it out.

House sidled up behind her while she finished the washing up. He whispered something in her ear and she laughed. "Okay, but make it quick, I've got places to go, things to do and Bridget's attention span is limited."

"Should I be insulted that you've reduced our sex-life to an item on your to-do list?" He asked as he followed her to the bedroom.

"Insulted? No, I think that you should be relieved that we have any time at all. Now stop bitching and kiss me." She shut the door and locked it.

After she had showered, he watched her arrange her hair. Everything she did was deliberate and sexy. She didn't know it, but he did.

Five years ago it was hard to believe that this was possible. Even now, it was hard to believe that he wanted it. Once a patient saw in him a kindred spirit, a man so consumed with his work that there was no time for a family, for love, for comfort, but somehow, he was able to have it after all.

He leaned back in bed, hoping to steal another hour or two of sleep. There was a knock at the door. "Mommy, I want to come in!'

She walked over to the door and opened it. Bridget walked in expecting to see something wonderful that she was missing out on. A circus or kittens or at the very least cartoons. "Oh, it's just you."

"What did you think silly?"

Bridget shrugged and reached up so that her Daddy could pull her up onto the bed. Felix, the cat, was curled up on a throw and House was reading a magazine. Bridget reached for the cat and House gently pulled her away, "let him alone, he's having a nap. Let's do the same. Want to sleep like the kitty?" He tried to make it appealing, but Bridget thought of naps as thieves of time. She was convinced that everyplace she wasn't, was where the party was. She was afraid to miss out on some amazing experience, so she willed herself to stay awake. House slid down under the duvet and patted a place between him and Felix. "Look, here's a place just for Bridget. Felix is here, I'm here, and this is for you." He closed his eyes and felt the warmth steal over him, praying that she'd settle down and let him sleep just a little bit longer.

Her eyes fluttered and she stretched out, stealing a good portion of the duvet. "Okay, but this is mine!" She grabbed a pillow and flopped her head onto it.

"I wouldn't have it any other way." He said, fully relaxed and falling asleep.

Bridget sucked her fingers and followed suit.

"She's her father's daughter all right."

When House woke up, he found that Bridget had managed to carry the cat to the window-seat and she was swinging him in a makeshift hammock fashioned from the curtains. She was singing a tuneless song that she had made up just for the occasion, "Felix is a good cat, he's sleeping in the window, Felix is a good cat, he purrs when I pet him..." When words failed her, she just sang, "la, la, la, la, la."

House shook off the last of his fatigue and focused his attention on his progeny. It seemed improbable that what he witnessed was in fact happening, yet there was the cat, and there was Bridget. "Okay, that's enough. Let him down."

She shot him an ugly look and unceremoniously dropped him onto the window-seat with a thud. Felix looked at her, looked at House and stuck his tail straight up in the air and tried to regain his dignity. "Sorry about that old man," he apologized to the cat. "Where's Mommy?" He asked.

"She went to the store. James is in the living room and Dennis is sleeping. She said we had to make cookies." She worked to embellish the lie, "for a snack."

"We'll see." He said. "Go bother James; I'm going to get dressed." He shooed her out of the room.

After a hot shower he felt that he could face the day. James was in the family room with Dennis and Bridget staging an elaborate pageant with stuffed animals.

Dennis, a tow-headed monster about the same age as Bridget, was inexplicably manipulating an octopus down an aisle of Babies, teddy bears and dinosaurs. "Soul Train line?" House asked.

James smiled, "wedding."

"Royal wedding," Bridget corrected, "He's the king of the sea, and she's," she informed, picking up a horse, "the queen of the horses."

"They make a lovely couple; their children will be swift and grabby." House observed, "Isn't the game about to start?"

James glanced up, "you'll regret not taking more time. They're only this age once." He hoisted himself up.

"I have beer. Yes, they're adorable, but I need some grown up time." He picked his way through the obstacle course of brightly colored, plastic objects and over to the sofa. A sectional that survived from her apartment before they were married. It was too old to be used for company, but not too old to be in the playroom. House turned on the game and settled in.

James returned from the kitchen with giant cans of Guinness. "What's the score?"

"Seeing as how it just started, nothing to nothing." House took a slug of beer and sighed with satisfaction.

"Great, they're covering the spread!" Wilson observed.

"Have you always been an optimist?" House asked.

Wilson thought about it, "yes. I have to be in my line of work." His attention was diverted by inarticulate grunts and shrieks. "Dennis! Put it down. NOW!"

Dennis stopped what he was doing and dropped the triceratops that he was about to fling across the room. He whinged a bit.

"Stop. Breathe. Think. Speak." Wilson instructed.

Dennis was enraged, his face was beet red and he might have been holding his breath. James waited patiently for him to calm down.

House glanced over at Bridget. She was holding the horse, the octopus, a Tonka truck and had her foot on a G.I. Joe. "Stop being so greedy. Let him play with something too."

Dennis, having been provided with the precise word that he wanted, shrieked at her, "Greedy!" And ran to his father for comfort.

Bridget, her feelings genuinely hurt, snurfled in preparation for crying, her lower lip quivering with passion. She held her arms out to her father. He got up and made his way to her. "Yes, I know, the truth hurts." She sobbed into his T-shirt, causing a big, wet blob to spread over Dee Dee Ramone. "Okay, collect yourself and apologize to Dennis."

Bridget wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and walked over to her life-long playmate, "Sorry," she said, extending the horse out to him.

He took it and the crisis was averted.

"I can't believe I got myself into this." House said, "They don't tell you about the consequences of a night of tequila fueled passion in the commercials."

"You love it." Wilson said, downing his beer, "on your best day you couldn't have imagined anything this great." He beamed at the children who were playing quietly.

House grumbled, but did not reply. "When did they score?"


End file.
